


The Significance of Fireplaces

by Caedmon



Series: Doctor/Rose Prompts [6]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, Angsty Schmoop, F/M, Fireplaces, Post-Episode: s02e04 The Girl in the Fireplace, Schmoop, Sharing a Bed, The Author Regrets Nothing, my 75th fic!, post gitf, shmoop a doop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-24
Updated: 2015-10-24
Packaged: 2018-04-27 22:13:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5066386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caedmon/pseuds/Caedmon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor and Rose used to spend nearly every evening cuddled in front of the fireplace in the library. After the Doctor returns from 18th century France, however, Rose abandons their quiet evenings together. The Doctor sets out to find out why, and set her straight.</p><p>From the timepetalsprompt ficlet friday prompt: fireplaces and bonfires</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Significance of Fireplaces

**Author's Note:**

> First - this is my 75th posted fic! Wow...
> 
> Okay, now the usual.  
> There are things that I own. I own a crappy minivan, entirely too many funko pops, my house in the middle of my street, a really cute blouse I got the other day, and a family consisting of a husband and three kids. (They're mine. I got fat for them, therefore _I own them, dammit_.)  
>  I do not, however, own Doctor Who or the characters I write.  
> If you're reading this, thank you from the bottom of my heart. If you wouldn't mind leaving feedback, it's greatly appreciated.  
> Come talk to me! caedmonfaith.tumblr.com

It took very little time for the Doctor to fall into a routine once Rose was on board - even if he refused to acknowledge it for being as domestic as it was. It wasn’t that he didn’t like the little things they did together, the little habits and patterns they’d developed. He absolutely did. It was just that...well...they just weren’t domestics. Absolutely _were not_ domestics. 

When the Doctor worked under the console on the Tardis, Rose would take up a spot in the console room to keep him company. They didn’t always talk; in fact it was a bit more common for her to simply sit and read on the jump seat while he tinkered, but he liked having her there anyway. It was comforting to be able to stick his head out and tease her about hovering around him, even if she knew he wanted her there and he knew she knew. She played along, and the banter was comforting to him. 

It took less than a week before she learned how he liked his tea at particular times of day. In the morning he wanted it strong with one sugar, no milk. Later in the day he preferred it weaker, with two sugars and a splash of milk. On the occasions that they drank coffee he always took it black, with a shot of espresso if he could get it, and so strong it could lift the Tardis. 

But perhaps his favorite little custom that sprung up between the two of them was when they would sit in the library together in front of the fire. It always happened at night (according to Rose’s circadian rhythm), and he found it a wonderful way to wind down - especially after a stressful day adventuring. They almost always read, although sometimes they’d just talk. Over time, as Rose scooted closer and closer to him on the couch and he found her nuzzled against his side or with her head in his lap - in fact, flat-out cuddling - the Doctor took to reading to her. It was the most intimate he’d ever been in all his lives, and he came to cherish the time they spent together, comfortable in each other’s arms in front of the fireplace.

When he regenerated and Rose was faced with a New New Doctor, he was dismayed to find her at the other end of the couch once again. He was patient, though, encouraged by the fact that she still sought out their time together in front of the fire, even if she didn't touch him in the ways she had before. He knew now that she had loved him before he caught fire and emerged a new man without any warning, and he tried to remind himself how traumatic that experience must have been. His patience paid off and slowly, so slowly, she inched back towards him, until she was nestled comfortably in his side once more. 

When they flew back into the vortex after meeting Sarah Jane and killing the krillitane, he found Rose at the opposite end of the couch again. He would have none of that and tugged her over to him, forgoing reading that night and opting instead for telling her in terms as oblique as possible how much he cared for her and how he wanted her to stay with him as long as she would, that he never wanted her to leave. He couched it delicately, of course... it wouldn’t do for him to come right out and say he loved her. That might well terrify her. So he kept the truth of the depth of his emotion hidden from her. It was safer that way, he knew, and it gave him the comforting knowledge that he'd told her. Kind of. Almost. In a way. He couldn't be _completely_ honest, after all. So he was vague, he alluded and sidestepped, and figured that it just didn’t need saying.

The very next day, the Doctor found himself in front of another fireplace, and this one took him to 18th century France. He crashed through a mirror - a journey with no return ticket - and left Rose behind to fend for herself. 

The death of Reinette Poisson, knowing that she had waited for him and longed for him, hit him harder than it should have. He had only known her for a few hours, after all, but for some reason her death cut him deeply and he mourned for her. 

That night he sought Rose out in the library, but she wasn’t there. He settled in to read, but she didn’t come. He told himself that it was because she’d had a long day: they’d been on that ship for hours and Rose and Mickey had had a longer day than he. Still, he longed for her that night, for the comforting weight and warmth of her against his side. 

She seemed to be fine for the most part after France, if a little bit stiff. He tried to tell himself that that was because Mickey was on board. She didn’t want to make her friend uncomfortable, naturally. He tried to understand.

Still, the Doctor went to the library and sat before the fireplace every night, waiting and hoping, but Rose never appeared. 

He was certain that after they returned from Pete’s world she would rejoin him. It had been a terrible experience for her, and he assumed that she would come to him and let him comfort her as he always had when the day had been long and traumatic. 

The Doctor sat in front of the fireplace alone again.

It had been two weeks since they’d shared the intimacy afforded by their little periods of downtime in front of the fire, and the Doctor was getting twitchy. He was very tactile in this body and craved her touch, her nearness. Rose was denying him for some unknown reason, and with every evening he spent alone he found himself sinking a little more. She was there, she was with him and his companion, but at the same time, she wasn’t. He had no idea what he’d done, what had changed, why she had suddenly abandoned their little routine that had made both of them so happy. She seemed fine otherwise. 

It perplexed, frustrated, and saddened him. Without her in his near vicinity, without her warmth giving him the solace and reassurance he so desperately needed, the Doctor found himself reminded all too much of his crushing loneliness. He was reminded that eventually, she’d be gone forever. He despaired at the very thought.

Eventually, after entirely too long, it occurred to him that he had done something wrong, although he was buggered if he knew what. There was only one way to find out, though. So, two weeks after France and three days after they left Jackie’s where they’d visited after Mickey jumped universes, the Doctor resolved to find out what he had done and how he could fix it. 

~*~O~*~

Rose had been quite shaken by the events on Pete’s World, and the Doctor had been very solicitous of that. He’d taken her straight to her mum’s and stayed as long as Rose wanted to, which turned out to be a week. Rose loved her mother, but her home was among the stars now, and she’d been ready to go after a few days of her mother’s constant attention. She deeply doubted that her time on the TARDIS would last much longer. She was sure that the Doctor would be dropping her off sooner rather than later, but she craved as much time and as many adventures as she could get before that happened. She wanted as much time with _him_ as possible, if she were being honest. Rose cursed herself for being in love with a capricious alien. 

The Doctor seemed to think she needed to recoup more, and Rose wasn’t prepared to argue. He’d taken her to the type places he knew she’d like for the last three days, and today he said they were going to a spring festival on Gulsna. He promised good food, lots of vendors, and great entertainment. Rose did her best to appear enthusiastic. 

When they landed, he stepped out of the Tardis into the open air and she exited right behind him. He reached for her hand and she didn’t resist. She loved touching him - she loved _him_. His close proximity made her feel safe - as long as he was close. Since Sarah Jane and France, though, she got fidgety if she didn't know where he was. Anytime the anxiety about him leaving her, abandoning her somewhere cropped up, she began telling herself firmly that that was a one-off, a misunderstanding of some sort, and he wouldn’t actually have left her. 

She had a hard time convincing herself. 

The two of them strolled, hand in hand, through the festival. Rose was enjoying herself more than she had recently and flitted from tent to tent, looking at the vendors’ wares and food. The Doctor stayed right with her, and she was secretly grateful.

They’d made their way back into the main aisle, walking casually through the thoroughfare, when the Doctor spoke suddenly. "I’ve missed you, Rose.”

She cut her eyes at him. “I’ve not gone anywhere, Doctor.”

“No, I mean I’ve missed you in the library. In the evenings.”

Rose didn’t say anything and hoped he’d forget about it. 

He didn’t. “It’s just...that’s always been my favorite time of the day, but now you don’t come anymore. Did I do something wrong?”

Rose took great care to remain casual. “I don’t want to talk about it, Doctor.”

He stopped on the spot, tugging her around to face him. “Rose, please. Tell me what I did.”

She looked around at the bustling crowd and worked hard to blink back tears. Her teeth were clenched against her will when she said, “This is not the time or the place, Doctor.”

“Okay,” he said simply. “Let’s go back then.” He turned and headed back towards the Tardis, tugging her behind him.

“No!” Rose yanked her hand back, turning him around. He didn’t release her hand. “I don’t want to go home right now. And I don’t want to talk about ...it right now.”

“When, Rose?” he asked, and Rose was sure she didn’t imagine the pleading note in his voice. “When are you going to talk to me about it? I can’t fix anything if I don’t know what I did, and I miss you terribly. Can we please talk soon?”

Rose looked away from him to nothing, swiping her hand across the her eyes angrily. She didn’t answer him for a time, she just stared at the corner of a booth and tried to keep her lip from trembling. 

“Rose…?” the Doctor prompted quietly. “Please tell me what I did.”

“We’ll talk tonight, alright? Just...I want to enjoy the day.”

The Doctor nodded, then pulled her into a hug. “I’ll fix whatever’s wrong, Rose, I swear,” he murmured into her hair. “I’ll put it right. I _will_.”

“I don’t think you can,” Rose whispered into his shoulder.

~*~O~*~

The Doctor waited in the library for her. She’d said they would talk tonight, and he had never known her to lie to him. So he’d made up two cups of tea, taking great care to make hers just like she liked it, and a plate of assorted biscuits. He made sure that the Tardis had freshly laundered her favorite throw blanket - the pink one he’d bought for her so long ago - and he had it lying across the back of the couch they usually sat. 

But she hadn’t come yet. 

The Doctor paced in front of the fireplace like a groom, his head down and hands jammed in pockets, running one hand through his hair every now and again before jamming it back into his pocket and asking nothing in particular why she hadn’t come yet.

“I wasn’t ready,” she answered.

He looked up, startled, to see Rose standing in the doorway nervously. She was wearing her favorite pajamas: the pink and black plaid bottoms and the black t-shirt with a bright pink heart, and he was convinced he’d never seen anything so beautiful. Her hair was pulled into a messy bun and her face was scrubbed clean. He loved her like this, this version of Rose that nobody got to see but him, and the tension in his shoulders melted away... until he realized she’d been crying.

He didn’t know what to say, and he wasn’t sure he could have gotten it out anyway around his breaking hearts.

“I...I made tea. And brought biscuits.” She smiled a little. “I got some of those cinnamon cookies you like so much. The ones with the funny name.”

“Snickerdoodles,” she said quietly.

The Doctor smiled brightly at her. “That’s it. I can never remember the name. Seems that I would, as unique as it is. ‘Snickerdoodle’ is not a word you get to use in everyday life much, is it? It’s quite a fun word, though. 'Snickerdoodle'. I wouldn’t mind using it more. Seems that it would stand out in my memory, yet somehow it keeps-” 

Rose hadn’t moved from the door, and he shut up. Blabbering didn’t appear to amuse her or set her at ease as it usually did. His anxiety was increasing, then he saw her eyes watering. 

“Rose,” he said in a quiet, soothing tone. “Please come in.” She shook her head and he went to her, his hand held out to her. “Please, Rose?”

The tears spilled over and she looked at his hand carefully. Finally, she lay her palm against his and allowed him to lead her to the couch. 

The Doctor moved to his customary corner and hoped she would follow him there, hoping she would snuggle up close like she always had. She didn’t, though. Instead, she pulled her hand free at the opposite end of the couch and tucked her favorite blanket around her like fluffy pink armor. He noticed that she kept casting furtive glances towards the fire, but assumed that maybe she was just avoiding talking. 

He got himself relatively comfortable, then offered her tea or biscuits. She took her tea with a quiet ‘ta’, but declined the biscuits. The Doctor settled into his corner of the couch, turning his body to face her. 

“Rose, can you tell me what’s been going on?”

“I don’t like the fireplace anymore,” she said softly. “I don’t want to be in here with it.”

He hadn’t expected anything like this from her, and he knitted his brow at her in confusion. “The _fireplace_?” She nodded. “I don’t understand, Rose, what’s wrong with the fireplace?”

She didn’t answer for a minute, just looked down at her hands. “It reminds me that you left me.”

“I left you?”

“On that spaceship, with Mickey. Three thousand years from now.”

It rose to his lips to point out that there was no ‘now’ in the vortex, that they were basically anywhen, but he bit it back just in time. 

She continued: “You met a girl in a fireplace, and then used that fireplace to go to her. You snogged her. And in the end, you chose her.”

“I did not!” he said indignantly. “I didn’t snog her, she snogged me. And I most certainly did _not_ choose her, Rose!”

She looked up at him, her eyes flashing. “It certainly felt that way when you rode in to save the damsel in distress on your noble steed,” she said bitterly. “And it sounded that way when you spun around on that fireplace boasting about how you’d snogged her.”

“Rose -”

“You _left_ me, Doctor. You _left_ me there. And the very day after you’d told me you wouldn’t! I let you know that I was afraid of being dumped behind like so much rubbish, like you’ve left your other companions -”

“Oi!”

Rose’s voice was rising in volume and intensity as she let out the anger and hurt that had been building for weeks. “But you told me that I was different. You made me believe that I was special. I _believed_ you when you said it. I asked you if that’s what was going to happen to me. You said, ‘no, not to you.’ And then the very next bloody day, you abandoned me for...for...for _her_!” she spat. 

The Doctor took a very deep breath. It wouldn’t do for him to get angry back at her. “Rose, I did not abandon you. I had to preserve the timeline, you know that.”

“You jumped through a window on a white horse in order to save a beautiful, cultured, sophisticated French aristocrat. A window that you knew was a one-way trip. You couldn’t come back, Doctor, and you fucking _knew_ that when you jumped!”

He was startled by her swearing. She rarely did. “Rose -”

“Of course,” she continued scathingly, “That was _after_ you’d snogged her and...and _danced_ with her.”

“I did not _dance_ with Reinette Poisson, Rose!”

“Did you show her your moves, Doctor?” she sneered, tears rolling down her face. “You never wanted to boast before, but did you make an exception in the case of beautiful French royal tarts?”

The Doctor was getting angry now. “I didn’t _dance_ with her!”

“You know, Doctor, I would have believed you before. When you were the other Doctor, my first Doctor. I would have believed _him_ in a minute. But I wouldn’t have had to believe him, and do you know why?”

He didn’t answer her, he just watched her with stormy eyes.

“Because before you changed, you _never_ would have left me! He _never_ would have made me feel like I wasn’t good enough! He _never_ would have told me he wouldn’t leave me and then abandoned me the very next day!”

“I’m still the same man, Rose,” he growled.

“No you are _not_ the same! The first Doctor, my leather doctor, he wouldn’t have done that to me because _he loved me_. He did! He loved me, but that’s apparently not true anymore! Not for the New New Doctor!”

The Doctor just gaped at her, all of his anger forgotten. “How could you think -”

“I don’t think, I _know!_ The Doctor loved me before, but this new new you is on to bigger and better things! Beautiful, educated, sophisticated things!” 

She was sobbing in earnest now, and the Doctor scooted towards her, putting his arms out to her. “Rose, listen to me…”

She swatted his hands away. “ _Don’t touch me._ I’m not good enough for you anymore.” 

“That’s not -!”

“And _that_ is why I don’t want to come in here in the evenings anymore, Doctor. I don’t want to look at the fireplace and be reminded every night of just how quickly and easily you were able to leave me.”

He hung his head for a second, then bounced it back up. “Rose, please. Please listen.”

“No!” She sprung up from the end of the couch and took a couple of steps back. “I don’t want to listen. There’s nothing you could say that would make me believe that you didn’t want Rienette. Nothing will make me forget that you ran to her, then grieved her death.” She backed further away. “Nothing will ever make me believe that you’re the same man you were, because I know you’re _not_.”

The Doctor stood up and took a step towards her. She turned away, shaking her head. “No. Just...just leave me alone, Doctor.” She ran from the room on a sob, and the Doctor hated himself in that moment more than he had since he took her hand in Henrik’s basement.

“Where did she go, girl?” he asked the Tardis. The Tardis responded with an angry sound, like a snarl. He sighed. “Alright, alright. Just...let me know when she’s calmer, alright? I can’t let her believe all of that.”

The Tardis gave him the equivalent of a disgruntled sniff, and he realized that that was the best he was going to get from her. The two women in his life were not pleased with him at all, and he felt wretched.

~*~O~*~

He didn’t wait for the Tardis’ permission. After a couple of hours he began to seek her out, looking in all the places he thought she may be. He finally went to her room last and stood outside the door with his head hanging, working up the courage to speak with her, to make things right. He knocked lightly, and she didn’t answer but the door opened a couple of inches.

“Thanks, old girl,” he told the Tardis, and got the same sniff as before.

Rose was asleep in her bed, curled into a ball facing the door. She’d clearly cried herself to sleep, and her eyes were red and puffy. When he got closer to her he noticed that she was clinging to something...then felt a jolt when he recognized it. She’d fallen asleep with one of his old jumpers pressed to her face. Looking around her room on a hunch, he spotted it hanging on a chair: his old leather jacket. The Doctor sighed and let his shoulders sag; the memory of what he used to be was all that was keeping her aboard.

He approached the bed and sat down as gingerly as possible, hoping not to startle her. She stirred slightly, bringing the burgandy jumper closer to her face. His hearts stuttered, and he shook his head to fight off his own tears. He’d hurt her badly, he’d managed to deeply wound this woman he loved so much. How could he make this right?

All he could do was explain, to tell her the truth.

The Doctor raised his hand and gently combed her hair back from her face with his fingers. 

“Rose?” he said softly. “Rose, can you wake up for me, love?”

She stirred again, then opened her eyes slowly. The beginnings of a smile formed when she saw him before she drew herself away and rolled over onto her other side, facing away from him, taking the jumper with her. “Go away, Doctor.”

“No. I’m not leaving until you let me explain. Things were rather one-sided in the library a little bit ago.”

“There’s no defense for what you did,” she said, and her voice was watery.

“You’re right, there isn’t and I won’t try to make one. But I need you to understand something, and to clear up some misconceptions you have.”

“I don’t want to hear them.”

“Tough.” His voice took on a firmer edge as his frustration grew. She _had_ to listen to him. She _had_ to understand. “I’m telling you anyway. Now are you going to sit up and look at me, or do I need to lay down beside you? Either way, I’m getting on your level.” She didn’t speak or move. “Have it your way, then.” He kicked off his converse and lay down on the bed behind her, careful to not touch her.

“Why are you in my bed, Doctor?”

“We used to share a bed all the time.”

“Not since you regenerated. This you doesn’t want to anymore.”

“That’s precisely why I’m in here. That’s one of the misconceptions we need to clear up.”

“I don’t want to talk. Just go.”

“Stop it, Rose,” he said, and his voice brooked no argument. “You’re miserable, I’m miserable, and we can both be _un_ -miserable but you have to _let me explain._ ” He waited. She didn’t roll over or acknowledge him in any way...but she was quiet. He could work with that.

“How much do you remember about when I regenerated?”

She was annoyed when she answered. “I don’t see what that has to do with-”

“Just answer the question, Rose. You’ll understand in a minute.”

She didn’t say anything for a minute and he just stared at her back. She’d answer him, he knew. He’d knocked the tiniest little crack in the barrier between them by coming to her, but she was still furious. She thought he didn’t want her. It was high time to disabuse her of that notion.

“I remember being in London.” She bit out the words as if they were painful, and again the Doctor realized with an intense ache in his chest that was very close to physical how much he'd hurt her. “Mum had gone to get a tow truck and Mickey hooked it up to the Tardis. I suppose it must have worked, because the next thing I remember I was waking up in the Tardis with the D- with you. Jack was gone, and we were in the vortex. You never have told me what happened to Jack,” she threw out irritably. “I don’t know what happened in the between time. I heard singing, that’s all I know.”

“I died, Rose. I died trying to protect you. And it was entirely worth it.”

She sat up and turned her body to glare at him. “Why in the hell would you-”

“Why did _you_ come back?” he challenged her. “I did what I did for the exact same reason you did what you did.”

Rose clamped her mouth shut and lay flat on her back, staring at the canopy above her bed. She’d evidently decided to leave the elephant in the room unnamed, and he was fine with that for the moment. Wouldn’t last long. 

Plus, she’d stopped giving him her back. It was something.

“I should have warned you about regeneration, and I’ll never not be sorry for scaring you the way I did. But you need to understand something.” 

Rose cut her eyes at him. “What’s that, then?”

“I willingly surrendered my life to keep you safe. That’s powerful. And when I regenerated, I had nothing but you on my mind. All I could think about while I was regenerating was you.”

He saw her eyes grow suspiciously wet, but she asked, “What about me? What were you thinking, Doctor? How nice it would be to get rid of me?”

The Doctor swallowed a growl at her for being purposefully obtuse. He’d hurt her, and she deserved to be angry. But it was his own anger that gave him the nerve to spit out what came next: words he’d been hoping he’d never have to say and had been worrying him since he decided to tell her.

“No,” he said patiently, “it was the precise opposite, actually. All I could think about was how I wanted the next version of me - this version of me - to be someone you could love.” She looked over at him, but he continued, looking into her eyes. “I wanted to be younger, handsomer, with no big ears or nose...I wanted to sound like you. I wanted to have a personality you’d find attractive. I wanted to please you. I was desperately afraid you would leave me, and I couldn’t bear it.” Her eyes were quite wet now, and he made himself say the next bit over the pounding of his hearts. 

“I died for love, Rose. I died because I wanted you to be alive. And I regenerated into something I hoped you could love because I never wanted you to leave me. I wanted you to love me.”

“I did. I loved your big ears and accent and how grumpy you were. I loved you.”

“I didn’t really realize that until you asked me to change back.”

The Doctor could see her reaction; she looked as if he’d slapped her. Shock, anger, hurt and confusion whirled behind her eyes, and he hastened to soothe her. He reached across her body to her other arm and tugged her over so that she was lying on her side, facing him. She closed her eyes instead of looking at him. 

“I hurt you.”

“It’s my fault, Rose. I should have told you. And yes it hurt, but I understood, even then. But that’s not what I’m trying to tell you.”

She shook her head, letting a tear fall to the pillow before she asked on a whisper, “What are you trying to say, Doctor?”

“I died _and_ regenerated out of love. For you.” He sighed, then went on. “I was literally created for you, Rose. Only for you.”

More tears fell and one landed on her nose, refusing to fall. The Doctor reached up and wiped it away, then stroked her face gently. “What I’m trying to tell you is that I can’t love anyone else, Rose. My devotion to you is unbreakable. And I wouldn’t _want_ to be with anyone else. We visit all these worlds, all these fantastic, amazing places and times and they’re all fascinating and wonderful. But _you’re_ my world, Rose Tyler.” She let out a soft sob but still didn’t look at him, her eyes were screwed up tight. “I didn’t do anything with Reinette beyond dancing with her. Actual dancing. Ballroom style. And she snogged me, I swear it. I can’t love anyone else. And what’s more, Reinette saw it when she entered my mind.”

“She entered your mind?” Rose finally looked at him, but he couldn’t identify what she was thinking or feeling.

“She did,” the Doctor answered. “She mostly saw childhood memories, but she also saw how I felt - _feel_ \- about you. I think that’s what made her try so hard to get my attentions and affections. She wasn’t used to being second in any man’s hearts. It was a competition of sorts for her.” Rose closed her eyes again, and he cupped her face, scooting towards her an inch. “But Rose, she was destined to lose. She could never have won. Because I’m bound to you, tied to you.” He ran his thumb across her cheek. “I’m yours, Rose.”

She let loose with another sob, and he pulled her into his arms. She didn’t fight him, instead cried against his chest. He murmured sweet nothings into her hair, stroking her back. 

“But you left me, Doctor. You left us behind,” she cried against his chest.

“I did, and I could not possibly be any sorrier for hurting you. But I knew I was coming back. The fourth incarnation of me went to Paris two years later, and I knew I could catch a ride back to you with him. I would have waited those two years to come back to you.”

“Did you?”

“No. Reinette had preserved her old fireplace.” He tugged her back, away from him, so that he could look at her. “That fireplace brought me _back to you,_ Rose. I would have had to wait two years for a chance to see you again, but that fireplace made it so that I didn’t have to. And I’m so thankful; I’d have gone stark raving mad without you for that long.”

“Is that true?” she whispered.

He smiled at her gently. “Every word. I loved you, I do love you, I belong to you until I die, and it was a _fireplace_ that brought me back to you and saved me from madness.”

Rose shook her head in his hand, closing her eyes. “I can’t believe that you love me. It’s too- I just can’t.”

The Doctor kissed her then. She stiffened against him, but relaxed just a bit when he pulled away to lay his forehead against hers. “I know I’m shite at communication, Rose, for all that I’ve got a gob that never rests. But I do love you. I’ve known I needed you since ‘there’s me’, and I knew I needed you forever in that basement in Cardiff. That I’d never be alright without you. Not really.” 

He kissed her again, letting his lips slide gently over hers. She responded by slipping her arms around him tentatively, and he consciously willed himself to settle down. A heated argument broke out between his body and willpower, but he felt the delicacy of the moment and wasn't about to muck it up by getting aggressive. He kissed her gently instead, pestering her bottom lip with his teeth then soothing it with his lips. 

There was nothing demanding in this kiss, nor was it desperate (although that’s certainly how he felt...as if he’d die if he couldn’t make her understand). He was wooing her, seeking to convince her of his genuinity. This kiss was nothing more than the Doctor standing before the gate of her heart and requesting admittance. His mouth spoke wordlessly against hers, romancing her, pleading with her to love him as he loved her.

He pulled away after a while, remembering both her need to breathe and his need to maintain control of himself. He satisfied himself by lying his face on the pillow just far enough away that he could see her without crossing his eyes and allowing himself a tiny quirk of the lips over how flustered she looked. 

“If you don’t want a fireplace in the library, if getting rid of it will make you come back to me in the evenings, then you can consider it gone. But although I understand where you were coming from, it simply doesn’t have the same connotation to me as it does to you.

“You see the fireplace as something that took me away. I see the fireplace as the thing that brought me back to you.”

He kissed her again, softly, sweetly, and only for a moment. “You are the keeper of my hearts, Rose Tyler, and I love you. I’ll spend the rest of your life proving it, if you’ll let me.”

“Oh shut up, you git,” she cried, and he grinned. 

~*~O~*~

The next night, Rose lay with her head in the Doctor’s lap on the couch in the library. A fire blazed cheerily in the stone fireplace while he read to her and played idly with her hair.

 _“Love ’s not Time’s fool, though rosy lips and cheeks_  
_Within his bending sickle’s compass come;_  
_Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,_  
_But bears it out even to the edge of doom._  
_If this be error, and upon me prov’d,_  
_I never writ, nor no man ever lov’d.”_

**Author's Note:**

> quoted poem is William Shakespeare's Sonnet 116, "Let me not into the marriage of the minds."


End file.
